I'm sorry, I had to
by 20-guilty-pleasures
Summary: Mary had always considered herself a good, proper young woman, so if someone had told a week ago that she was on the verge of committing one of the worst sins imaginable, she would have outright denied it. But sin Mary did, and she'd never regret it.


note: the rating is T, but it is a heavy T. there's nothin graphic, but consider this a fair warning

Mary walked briskly through Misslethwaite's maze of walled gardens, not pausing to admire their flowering beauty or bask in their heavenly scent. It was late May, and the sun was shining for all it was worth, but not even the warm weather with its perfect fresh spring breeze could distract Mary now.

There was only one reason for this, and that reason was sitting in her coat pocket, in the form of an exquisite diamond ring. She'd had this ring for only three days now, but god, she felt as if she'd been carrying it for years. It weighed down on her pocket just as it weighed down on her heart, and with that weight came a myriad of emotions Mary couldn't even begin to express.

When Colin had offered it to her, she'd been powerless to resist. He'd proposed in the garden at tea, kneeled before her against a backdrop of flowers, walls swathed in ivy and splashing fountains. But the dancing water in those fountains hadn't been nearly as tumultuous as Mary had felt.

Colin had looked at her with such complete, heart melting love in his big grey eyes, that Mary only hesitated for a moment before smiling at Colin and nodding her approval. Then he'd slipped the ring on her finger with a satisfied, completely unsurprised smile, and pulled her with him to the house to tell his father the good news. All the while, Mary's frazzled brain had seemed to have gone on pause, and the only thought running through her head as Colin exuberantly told his father about the engagement was that they'd left their unfinished tea in the garden. It wasn't until much later, when Mary was alone in her room, that the magnitude and finality of what had happened hit her with full force.

"I'm marrying Colin…I'm marrying Colin… I'm marrying Colin…"

She whispered this over and over to herself, playing with the ring on her finger, twisting it around to try and make it feel right, then she gave up and took it off entirely. _How_ could she have agreed to do this?

It wasn't that she didn't love Colin, she absolutely did. But she loved him as a brother, someone who was always there for her, but not someone she would ever be interested in romantically. Agreeing to marry him would mean that she'd have to pretend all the time; she'd be living a lie. _What_ had she been thinking?

After pondering over it for a long while, Mary came to the conclusion that she'd agreed to marry Colin out of necessity. Everyone had been expecting their engagement, and if she did have to marry a "proper" suitor, Mary figured that the best option certainly was the charming and doting Colin.

But that didn't mean she had to fall in love with him. Her heart already belonged to someone else; a secret lover whom she knew she could never have married. And it was to that person whom she was hurrying to meet.

Dickon hadn't wanted to meet up with her, though. After he'd heard about the engagement, he'd told her that it would be best for both of them if they stayed apart and tried to get over each other. But curse it all, she didn't _want_ to get over him! Moreover, she didn't think she could have even if she wanted to; one couldn't simply fall _out_ of love with someone as perfect as Dickon.

Of course, Dickon did have one flaw, and Mary knew it very well. It was quite a fatal flaw, actually, and it was that he was _madly_ in love with her. Mary knew that he would do anything in the world for her, which was why he had consented to this meeting in the first place.

Finally reaching her garden, Mary impatiently threw open the door and peered inside, hoping that Dickon was already there, and he was, his distinct rusty curls standing out against the garden's greenery. He was sitting alone on a bench in perfect silence; not whistling a cheery tune or making friends with a passing squirrel. When he heard her, he looked up, and Mary had to hold in a horrified gasp as his sky blue eyes met hers.

Broken. That was the only word for the expression she saw in those mesmerizing eyes. The bright blue orbs which had always been so full of optimism, joy and life now looked broken, lost and betrayed. And it was all her fault. Biting her lip, Mary advanced and took a seat beside him. He didn't say a word, but he kept his eyes on her.

_Why_, they seemed to be asking her, _why did you do this to me?_

Mary longed to tell him that it was all a big misunderstanding, that she was free to marry him, and she longed for him to hold her in his arms again… but lying to him would only hurt him more.

Finally unable to take the silence, Mary forced a smile, "So, how... how have you been?"

Nothing. He didn't bother replying, Mary knew, because the answer to her question was painfully obvious. He'd been even more miserable than she had.

He finally looked away from her, and something in Mary cracked, "Look, Dickon, I'm sorry. I'm sorry about everything. I – I shouldn't have led you on; I should have _known_ that I'd end up marrying Colin in the end, but I couldn't help it. It was just so… _easy_ to fall in love with you because I always had, ever since the day I met you. But please, _please_ don't look at me like that. I can't bear to see you this way."

After what seemed like eternity, he turned to face her again, "I'm sorry too. I know tha' this is best for the both o' us, but I canna help what I feel, and I love tha more'n I ever thought it was possible to love someone. I love tha so much tha' I dinna see how life can be worth livin' without you. But I _promise_ tha' I'll try m'best not to let it show. I'll never bring it up again, an' you an' Colin will marry an' be happy, you'll see. An' if tha'rt happy, I'll be happy for thee."

As he spoke Dickon turned to face her again, and the look on his face, that blend of love and a poor attempt to conceal the misery he was feeling, completely blew all of the looks Colin had ever given her out of the water. _How_ could he love her so much, Mary wondered. He deserved so much better; Mary didn't think that she was particularly beautiful, and at the moment, she felt as lowly as scum. She'd broken the heart of the purest most angelic person she knew, and she hated herself for it.

Overcome by emotion, Mary did the only thing she could think of to try and make Dickon feel better; she threw her arms around him and pulled him close to her for a warm hug. When he didn't move, trying his best to prove that she no longer affected him, she nuzzled into his chest and whispered, "I love you so much more than you think I do… I could never be happy without you, don't you know that?"

"Then why did tha accept to marry Colin?" Dickon whispered softly, giving in and wrapping his arms around her waist. Even now, the second Mary felt Dickon's warm arms around her, all of her problems seemed to float away and she felt safe, everything felt right again.

"I had no choice, but I _do_ love you, Dickon, please don't _ever_ doubt that," Mary murmured softly into his shirt.

Dickon held her even closer, "I dinna doubt it, but that's no' fair to Colin. Please say tha loves him too."

"Not how I love you." Mary admitted, thinking about what trying to love Colin would entail, "Oh Dickon, I'll be so utterly _miserable_ without you."

"Please, dinna say that." Dickon whispered into her hair. He started gently stroking her back, one hand lightly traveling up and down to comfort her. And while Mary knew that Dickon was only trying to calm her down, his actions were having a rather different affect on her. Her spine tingled whenever his hand brushed by, and her heart race quickened rapidly. Slowly but surely, Mary was becoming quite aroused. Not that she was at all surprised by this; innocent as he was, Dickon tended to have that effect on her. It almost felt magnetic the way she was so drawn to him, whether she should be or not.

Unable to resist, Mary leaned up and pressed her lips to the base of his freckled neck; the place where she knew he was the most sensitive. He didn't make a sound, but Mary could tell by the way his breathing had deepened that he had probably closed his eyes to enjoy the moment. She then proceeded to open her mouth and let her tongue wander on his warm skin, sucking lightly and allowing her teeth to lightly graze him.

Dickon moaned softly, then pleaded with her, "Mary, tha'rt engaged to Colin, dinna do this."

She ignored him, tracing hot, damp kisses up his neck and along his jaw line. One of her arms slid up around his neck, and the other ventured lower, where she slipped beneath the cotton of his shirt and massaged the bare skin of his stomach.

Biting back another moan, Dickon forced himself to back away from the woman he loved. Looking her right in the eyes, he spoke, "Mary, if we do this, we'll be commitin' a horrible sin. We'll be guilty forever."

Mary merely leaned in close to him, and took his face in her hands. "Dickon, you could never be a sinner, you're an angel. My angel."

Dickon swallowed hard. Mary saw that he was starting to give in, and that he was definitely as aroused as she was. He breathed heavily, almost panting, and his eyes flicked down to Mary's lips. "Tha'rt wrong, Mary." He spoke in a voice barely above a whisper, "I'm definitely no' an angel. If I were, I wouldna want to kiss tha so desperately."

Mary couldn't take it any longer; she threw her arms around him and pressed him against the back of the bench. Then she arranged herself so she had one knee on either side of him, and leaned forward to kiss him insistently.

Guilty as he felt, Dickon knew that he didn't have the strength to push her away again, so he kissed her back. He tried to pour all of his love and passion for her into that kiss, because in his heart he somehow knew it would be their last one.

Then Mary started to rock back and forth, rubbing against Dickon's manhood. The sudden, wonderful, friction caused Dickon's mouth to slacken against hers slightly, and he groaned; Mary had never done this to him before.

And that was because Mary had never wanted him so badly before. Mary wanted to have one last time, one last beautiful time to just be with Dickon before she married Colin. She wanted Dickon to take her, completely.

So, she let one of her hands slide down and replace her waist on the front of his trousers, and teased him just enough to make him moan again. With her other hand, she took his hand and guided it to her bosom, wishing that there wasn't so much fabric between his rough hands and her skin.

Finally breaking the kiss, Mary leaned in to whisper in his ear, "Make love to me, Dickon. Just once, _please_ make love to me."

She knew it was wrong, even heartless of her to ask him to do this. How could she toy with him, use him to pleasure herself and then leave him forever? But Mary couldn't stop herself.

At her words, Dickon only shivered a little, and then huskily replied, "Mary, if tha wants me, I'm yours."

And Dickon was as good as his word too. Their clothes were shed, and then used to cover the bench where they kissed and climaxed over and over again. Neither of them had ever felt anything so perfect before.

But then it got late, the sun began to set, and Mary knew that she had to leave. They dressed in silence, and then looked at each other. Dickon was the first to speak, his voice told her that she had better get going, but his eyes were begging her not to leave him.

And Mary broke down, sobbing. She threw herself in his arms again, but only for a moment, because then she was running back up to Misselthwaite to have a good cry in her room.

Dickon, on the other hand, didn't shed a single tear until that night, when he told his mother he was leaving. She knew, without asking, exactly why he had to go, so she left him to pack. He was gone the following morning, and the last Mary ever saw of him was a scrawled note he had slipped through her window; "I'm sorry, I had to."


End file.
